Filthy
There Are No Shortcuts To Any Worthwhile Destination in The World
It seems as if the whole society is moving towards the idea of easy solutions and getting things done quickly, and that is why the proverb “All roads are long, but the darkest night is the fairest sight” has so much meaning. Thus, it is stated that one must endure, work hard, and sacrifice to attain the goal or to arrive at the preferred destination. Cuts appear appealing, but in most cases, they revert a noble process into a mere façade, demeaning its essence.
By Mohammad Usman2 years ago in Poets
If you want to change your life, read this
The only illness you suffer from is self-doubt, and it will ultimately destroy your career. Imposter syndrome is the feeling of doubting one's abilities and achievements compared to others, even when evidence suggests otherwise.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
Inside and Outside
Inside, the walls make me feel crowded. I bump into them sometimes. I bump into furniture. Everything seems crowded. The doors seem useless and pointless. The fitted sheets are thrown into a bag because I can't fold them perfectly. There's stuff, little stuff of everything and nothing, everywhere like they are all homeless. Like nothing here has a real home, or a real place to belong. Just thrown in like they don't matter. The sound of the howling air conditioner is nonstop, my best friend and my worst enemy. It howls louder than a wolf, a song of "you need me, but you hate me" and the water drops say "You'd rather be swimming" in a mocking way. The floor, white tile, I sweep almost daily, swiffer or mop, it doesn't matter. It's pointless because the clean look doesn't even last one day. Not even one full 24 hour period. There's always something on the floor to make it look dirty, especially the crawling roaches that even the cat ignores. There is no smell. No smell from good cooking, or insence burning, or a fire in the fireplace, or fresh laundry from all the clothes I've folded. No smell at all, not even from the cigarettes I smoke. It's stale and cold like a hospital. Intruders have attacked, the roaches, the bees, the dirt. It's a constant territorial battle that I have to fight when nothing seems mine at all. Nothing but the chairs that I save out of the dumpster, that I sit it too long --- alone listening to the howling air conditioner --- and talking to the robots online. My legs turning into ice that feels like their going to crack into shards.
By Shanon Angermeyer Norman2 years ago in Poets
A love letter to pain
Love letter to pain I have always talked about the nuances of love and beautiful warm fuzzy feelings about love, . But today I want to dive deep into the crux of love, the shades of grey behind the shiny and lustery surface of love . Falling in love is easy, but living with it forever is a constant battle. I am painstakingly and very candidly saying that, loving someone is the most beautiful yet the most hurtful thing. Because when you love someone, they knowingly or unknowingly will hurt you.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
